Author's Note: Here it is. This chapter also took a bit of work because I had to rearrange it a bit to have something here instead of later in the story – you'll see.
There is a fair bit of the fic left, though exactly how many chapters depends on how I split it up. Three or four, at a guess.
Enjoy!
Part XIII
Eryn Lasgalen, the Stronghold of the Elven-King: Present
After a sleepless night, Legolas is up before dawn. He dresses mechanically and goes into his sitting-room to find a book, although there is little hope of diverting his mind. Almost as soon as he has seated himself, the door opens and his father slips in.
"I thought you might be awake," the King says. "Did you sleep at all?"
"Not much," Legolas confesses.
"This will be over soon enough. In that connection, there is something I must discuss with you. I do not think there is any doubt the court will find Arahael guilty. Saeldur… he is guilty of an error of judgement, certainly, but I do not believe he has done anything worse than that. Do you?"
Legolas looks longingly at the jug of wine but decides against pouring himself a cup. It is far too early in the day to begin.
"No. I agree. It is an error of judgement, at least as far is the court is concerned. If he does hold me responsible for Candnaur's death… that is his business and mine. Nobody else need worry about it."
Thranduil looks at him as though wanting to say something on that subject, but he keeps his peace. Legolas is grateful. Candnaur's death, and whether Saeldur blames him for it, are subjects far too raw for him to discuss with anyone, even his father.
"An error of judgement of this magnitude is a serious matter, without needing to add to it." is all the King says. "It calls into account his fitness for the responsibilities he holds. We will discuss what Arahael's sentence will be when the time comes. I would like to hear your views on that outside the council chamber. Saeldur's… certainly I will tell you what I think, if you wish, but it is for you to decide, Legolas. It has been some years since Saeldur dwelt in the Woodland Realm."
"He is being tried in your court."
Thranduil shrugs. "I can exile him. What purpose will that serve? I cannot send him from all Middle-earth for what he has done. I might, at most, exile him from Eryn Lasgalen for his mistake. It is for Elessar to decide whether he is still welcome in Gondor. I think he will be guided by your views. And Saeldur, if I know him, cares very little what my sentence is and not at all about Elessar's."
"Elladan and Elrohir said the same thing."
"Saeldur's first loyalty has always been to you. That is a good thing; that is what made him fit to be your second-in-command. But now it means that this responsibility must fall to you as well."
"I do not know what to do," Legolas says in despair.
"You have always had your mother's heart." Thranduil's voice is soft. "She was merciful, but she could also be stern when the occasion called for it. You were too young to know, Legolas, but the council was sometimes more frightened of her than of me. Trust your instincts. They will not lead you wrong."
Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-King: Present
Before Ellaurë can begin, Thranduil gets to his feet.
There is instant silence. The Elven-king commands respect at the best of times; with what is happening now, nobody wants to try his temper.
"The Royal Guard have brought to my attention," he says, his voice soft but reaching every corner of the large room, "that, while the decision to release Bregolien was made by Arahael and Amarthiel alone, other members of my court have been involved in plots against Legolas in the past. As much as I would like to believe this a lie, I do not doubt the Royal Guard. Should there be any such Elves present now, I urge them to come to me in my study this evening and confess. If they come forward on their own, I will be lenient. Lady Ellaurë, you may proceed."
"Wait, Ellaurë." Norgalad again. Saeldur cannot hold back a smile when he sees Legolas just manage not to roll his eyes. "Saeldur, forgive me for the digression, but I must ask – how long has this been going on?"
"How long?" Saeldur is too startled at the question to answer at once.
"How long have you been plotting with Arahael to have Legolas murdered? – Oh, very well," he adds irritably, when Saeldur protests. "How long have you been attempting to save Legolas' life through stupid and unnecessarily elaborate means?"
Saeldur's cheeks flame. "Arahael and Míron first spoke to me after Candnaur died – the day after he died – and –"
"After Candnaur died," Norgalad repeats, not waiting for the rest of Saeldur's response. "For the benefit of the court, let me make certain I understand you quite well. You have been involved in this folly since Candnaur died. You have been willing, at the very least, to risk Legolas' life on your belief in your own cleverness. Since Candnaur died."
Before Saeldur can respond, before he can even think of a response, Arahael cuts in with, "If you want to be certain you understand, Lord Norgalad, I can be of assistance. Long before he spoke to Saeldur, my father spoke to Candnaur on the same subject."
"No," Celephindeth hisses, the horrified disbelief in her voice making Saeldur wince.
"I do not lie, Lady Celephindeth. Whatever crime you want to ascribe to me, Candnaur was guilty of the same thing. You must make your peace with that."
"You lie," Celephindeth snaps.
But Saeldur remembers a day, many years ago, and a whisper of suspicion that he forced from his mind because he would not let himself believe that his dead brother had been guilty of treason.
"Do not worry, my lady," Legolas says evenly, sparing Saeldur a glance that is almost reassuring. "He does lie. It is true that Lord Míron spoke to Candnaur, although not, I believe, as openly as he later spoke to Saeldur. Even Lord Míron was circumspect then. Candnaur would have nothing to do with it. Lord Míron never mentioned it to him again – I expect, without Candnaur's support, he thought there was no point."
"How do you know all this?" Arahael demands.
"I know because Candnaur told me."
Saeldur's stomach drops. He should feel relieved that his brother was not a traitor – but all it means is that Candnaur had better sense than he did.
"And you told nobody?" Arahael scoffs. "Do you expect me to believe that?"
"There was nothing to tell. As I said, even your father was more circumspect with Candnaur. He hinted that Candnaur would make the throne a better heir than I would, Candnaur laughed at him, and that was the end of the matter. Your father said nothing treasonous. He is far from being the only Elf who has questioned my abilities. Candnaur told me because he did not want me to hear it from someone else. I had a great deal on my mind and I do not believe I thought about it for more than five minutes."
"So Candnaur told you a piece of idle gossip. Yet Saeldur, who knew you far better, your own second, could not trust you with the same information. And he was right. I expect you realized that Candnaur was a threat to you, and that was why you –"
"That will do!" snaps Ellaurë. "Legolas, go on. You said Bregolien went to investigate the noise."
Ithilien, Some Distance from the Elven Settlement: Past
Legolas felt a mixture of excitement and relief. A little more work, and he would free his hands. The Mannish sword still lay where Bregolien had let it fall. If he could get to it, even in the darkness, he could get himself out of this situation.
The door opened and Bregolien dropped into the cellar. He was not as light on his feet as one of the archers would have been.
If Legolas had a weapon…
"Arahael is on his way," Bregolien said. His eyes were glinting with insanity. The tip of his sword dug into Legolas' ribs, just breaking skin. Legolas felt a trickle of blood. "Do you know what else he says?" He knelt over Legolas, pressing him back against the wall with a knee in his stomach. "Saeldur is with him. It appears he wants to see you dead as well. How foolish must you feel, Legolas, putting your faith in the undeserving?"
Even if Bregolien's arm had not been cutting off his air, Legolas would not have bothered to respond.
"He will watch you die," Bregolien crooned. "And he will feel that Candnaur has finally been avenged. This is your last chance, Legolas. Tell me who killed Míron and I will kill you swiftly. Refuse… I will make you beg for a quick death."
Suddenly, blessedly, perhaps because of the pressure from Bregolien's knee, the rope gave way. Legolas pulled his hands free. Bregolien, not expecting it, lost his balance.
Legolas kicked at him and rolled away. The Morgul-blade was within reach –
He shuddered, scrambled to his feet, and went to where he had seen Bregolien drop the other sword. The trapdoor was still open, but the light did not reach the corners of the cellar.
"You think you will escape me?"
Bregolien leapt. Legolas sidestepped, jarring his injured arm against the wall. Pain lanced up to his shoulder. He gritted his teeth against it, avoiding another swipe, scraping his feet along the ground.
"You think you can escape all three of us? You will be outnumbered soon. I expect you will defeat Arahael, he never was much of a warrior. But what of Saeldur? Will you fight to kill your friend?" Bregolien stepped forward, pushing Legolas back. "Of course, you already killed his brother. You may not find it difficult."
Legolas eyed the shaft of light entering the cellar. He had to get out. But Bregolien was making sure he stayed between Legolas and the trapdoor.
"You will die," Bregolien hissed.
With a sudden lunge, he seized Legolas' injured arm and wrenched it, while at the same time kicking at his knee.
Legolas buckled.
As he fell, his hand hit the hilt of the fallen sword.
Bregolien's sword raked his chest, deeper than before but still not fatal. Legolas managed to bring the sowrd up to parry and then slide away, to his feet, and fling the sword through the trapdoor. He followed it out before Bregolien could stop him.
Legolas blinked in the sudden glare of the late afternoon sunlight. He was behind the ruined tower. The sword was on the ground a few feet away. He snatched it up. Although his own blood was on his tunic, he felt a surge of hope. He was alive and he was armed. He could win this now.
Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-King: Present
"Wait," says Norgalad. "Did Bregolien come up after you?"
"He did, Lord Norgalad."
"Did he look for Arahael and Saeldur at all? Did he notice their absence?"
"I do not imagine he was expecting them to come so soon. It had been only minutes since he had received the letter. He did not mention it."
"Did you wonder why they were not there? Did you realize it was a ploy? Or think that Bregolien had lied?"
Legolas shrugs. "I did not think about it at all, Lord Norgalad. I was more concerned with defeating Bregolien."
Norgalad nods. "Go on."
Saeldur is not certain why he even bothered to interrupt.
Ithilien, Some Distance from the Elven Settlement
Legolas would have preferred his bow or his knives, but the sword was a good enough weapon for him to defend himself. He scarcely noticed the throbbing in his arm and his side. Bregolien had been a fine swordsman, once, and he might still have been able to defeat most opponents.
But the years Bregolien had been locked away, Legolas had spent training and fighting as the power of Dol Guldur grew once more. Even in Ithilien, the Elves had kept up their training schedule, if somewhat less rigorously. The need to guard against the odd remnant of Sauron's forces that had survived the fall of Mordor had kept them from growing lax.
Bregolien had been a fine swordsman, but Legolas reflexes were honed to a point he could not match. If Legolas' injuries had not been slowing him down, it might have been over already.
"You are better," Bregolien hissed, with a sudden lunge that forced Legolas back. "You have improved, Elfling, I grant you that. But you still do not have the will to win… If you had, you would have taken the best sword available, instead of allowing squeamishness about its previous owners to force you to choose one unworthy of a little Sindarin prince."
Legolas did not waste his breath responding.
"You hesitate when you should strike. You are weak."
Legolas barely heard him; he was aware of nothing but the dull gleam of the blades in the late afternoon sunlight, the clash as they met – and the very real worry that the Mannish sword he wielded, having lain unused for years, would not stand much more of this treatment. He could sense it from the way it vibrated. Already the blade was nicked in several places; a few more hard strikes would shatter it.
Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-King: Present
"Thank you, Legolas. Please sit. I think that is enough."
Saeldur is a little startled. This part of the retelling has not seemed to have a bad effect on Legolas. He is calmer than yesterday.
Clearly Ellaurë means to take no chances, because she nods encouragement when Legolas hesitates. Legolas returns to his place at the King's right.
For a moment Ellaurë seems about to summon Elladan again. Then, changing her mind, she goes to Thranduil and has a quiet conversation with him. Mídhaer rises from her place to join them. She nods vehemently about something.
Ellaurë does not look entirely convinced, but she returns to the middle of the room and says, "Rochendilwen."
Rochendilwen, is clearly not expecting this, but she not appear unwilling. She comes forward.
"Lady Mídhaer thinks it will do you good to speak," says Ellaurë. "However, you were not the only Elf present. There are others who can give the same evidence you can, including the sons of Elrond and the prince's guards. We will not compel you either way. The choice is yours."
"I wish to speak, my lady," Rochendilwen says promptly.
"Very well." Ellaurë brushes her hair out of her face. It is a sign of how worried she has been that it is not as tidy as usual. "Did you know Aeroniel had sent a false letter to Bregolien?"
"No, we had no idea. Fortunately, the bird that had given him the letter found us afterwards."
Ithilien, Some Distance from the Elven Settlement: Past
It was to Rochendilwen that the small red-headed goldfinch made its unerring way, landing on the branch in front of her and twittering in excitement.
She stared at it for a moment.
"Do you know where he is?"
The trees and birds of Ithilien, particularly this part of it, still recovering from the long dark shadow of Mordor, could not speak, or even echo the song of Arda, as freely as those in the Woodland Realm. But the goldfinch, hopping a few paces away and returning, fluttering its yellow wings, made no secret of its intent.
"Do you want us to follow you?" She whistled, sharp and shrill, the command for everyone to fall in. The archers obeyed at once, along with Eredhion and Voronwë, who knew their signals. Elladan and Elrohir hurried to join them.
In a very few moments, with a great rustling of branches, they gathered in the trees around.
"Go on," Rochendilwen told the bird. "We are coming."
The bird flew away, landing in a tree several feet away, waiting for Rochendilwen to catch up before it took off again. She kept her eyes on the bobbing scarlet head, not bothering to see if the others were close behind. They would keep up.
"Is he alive?" she gasped, as she leapt for a branch and almost overshot it in her excitement. She scrambled and steadied her hold. "Did you see him?"
The bird cocked its head and chirped; it could mean anything, but it did not seem mournful. She had to hope.
Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-King: Present
"You thought, then," says Norgalad, "that Legolas was dead? That it was, at the very least, a possibility?"
Saeldur does not understand the point of Norgalad's questions today.
"I did not know what to think," Rochendilwen responds. "We had searched, and found no sign of Legolas or Bregolien. The trees were confused – it showed how much work remained in that part of the forest. They did not understand what was happening. They were frightened. It frightened me."
"Then you understand something of how I felt when my father died," says Arahael.
Rochendilwen turns on him with a ferocity that is frightening.
"How you felt when your father died? Do you think you are the only one to have lost a parent? I have. Legolas has. Many other Elves who are in court at this moment have lost a parent – or, worse, a child. The realm has been at war, Arahael. We have not all had the luxury of plotting treason in the stronghold while others fought our battles."
"My father was not killed in battle!"
"Neither was my mother. Nor was the Queen."
"No, your mother and the Queen were murdered by your brother. I suppose it is too much to expect you to feel as others do about your loss."
"You speak boldly for one who is being tried on a charge of treason. If there is no Elven blood on your hands, it is not your own restraint you have to thank for it. But this I will tell you, Arahael, you whose reaction to your loss was to brood over it until murder and torture were the only thoughts in your vengeful mind. I have seen Legolas show mercy to those who harmed him. If you had the smallest part of –"
"Rochendilwen, that will do." Ellaurë finally finds her voice. "Lord Norgalad, did you have a point with your question?"
"It was only a question," says Norgalad. "To further my understanding."
"I trust it has been furthered and we may continue obtaining evidence. Rochendilwen, go on."
Ithilien, Some Distance from the Elven Settlement: Past
Rochendilwen, Elladan and Elrohir halted at the edge of the clearing at the same time, trying to take in what was happening without distracting Legolas.
He was duelling Bregolien – with a sword that, while not ill-looking, was clearly not as strong as an Elvish blade. His tunic was bloodied; how fresh the injuries were Rochendilwen could not say, but he was not as fast as usual.
Her pulse was racing. They had to do something – she could try to shoot from here, but she might hit Legolas – she might kill Bregolien instead of merely incapacitating him. She did not know if she had the courage to face that, no matter what he had done.
She felt someone try to brush past her, but Elladan was quick, catching hold of the Elf – Voronwë – and pushing him firmly into the trees.
"Are you out of your mind?" Voronwë hissed quietly, also mindful of the need not to distract Legolas. "I am going to put a stop to this."
"No," Elladan whispered harshly. "Let Legolas handle it."
"But –"
"He needs to do it," Elladan insisted, "if Bregolien is not to become a spectre that haunts the rest of his life. Legolas is not a child."
"If he had his weapons…"
As though in response to Voronwë's words, a final, hard hit from Bregolien shattered the sword. Legolas dropped it, backing away to a tree as Bregolien advanced on him. Bregolien thrust; Legolas would have leapt out of the way but the tree was behind him, and the point of the sword went into his shoulder.
Rochendilwen's hand grazed her bow before she changed her mind and seized her knives.
"What are you doing?" Eredhion demanded.
With a mental apology to the tree behind Legolas, she flung her knives, first the right and then the left, with the same deadly accurate aim that characterized her archery. They landed in the trunk inches from his hands.
Legolas glanced her way for a moment, then pulled the knives free in one easy, fluid movement.
Now that there was no danger of startling him, Rochendilwen, Eredhion, Voronwë, Elladan and Elrohir hurried closer, followed by the rest of the party. They need not intervene unless matters got out of hand.
There was no need. With the weapons, not his own but the next best thing, weapons crafted in Eryn Lasgalen, to the specifications of the archers, light, but deadly all the same, Legolas was suddenly much more in command of the fight.
Injured, he was slower than usual, but swift enough to startle Bregolien, swift enough to send his sword thudding to the soft grass and make him lose his balance.
Before he could move, one knife was at his throat, another poised to strike his hand if he moved for the sword.
"Yes, do it," Bregolien said. He sounded utterly mad. Whatever had been in him once of Rochendilwen's brother – the brother who had often been kind to her – there was no sign of it. "Do it. Kill me. Then everyone will know you are a murderer."
Rochendilwen did not know if she would have resisted the temptation in Legolas' place. But Legolas did, though it was with an obvious effort that he said, "This does not have to end like this. You are outnumbered, Bregolien. Surrender peacefully and you will face a fair trial in the King's court."
"A fair trial? Among those predisposed to hate me? Thank you for your kindness, my Elven-prince." He looked at the surrounding Elves, and a crafty gleam came into his eyes. "Where is Saeldur? Not here saving you. It appears Arahael was correct. He wants you dead, Legolas. You might as well accept the truth."
Legolas gave Eredhion a terse nod. He and Voronwë left the group of onlookers, coming to either side of Bregolien with their knives at the ready.
"What should we do with him?" Voronwë asked.
Eryn Lasgalen, the Court of the Elven-King
Rochendilwen draws a long breath, fists clenching.
"Sit down," Legolas says unexpectedly. "I will tell the rest."
She stares at him. "Legolas, no, there is no need –"
"Yes, there is," Legolas says. He sounds calm but there is something in his voice that warns Saeldur that it may not last. "The court has a right to hear this from me. Sit down."
After a long moment, and with an unmistakeable look of relief, Rochendilwen obeys.
Elrohir comes with Legolas as he takes his place once more. Saeldur wants to say something but Legolas will not look at him – or even at Ellaurë.
Ithilien, Some Distance from the Elven Settlement
Legolas stared a moment longer at Bregolien, on his knees on the ground.
"Secure him," he told Eredhion and Voronwë. "We will take him to Eryn Lasgalen. He was the King's prisoner before he escaped. The King can decide what to do with him."
Lowering the knives, he turned away.
He had barely taken a couple of steps when Rochendilwen screamed his name. He spun, knives coming up –
Eredhion was flat on his back, cradling his arm.
Bregolien, with Eredhion's knives, was leaping at Legolas. Legolas had no time to move before Bregolien fell on the knives he had instinctively raised, even as one of his blades thrust at Legolas' chest, leaving a line of fire behind it –
Rochendilwen was still screaming, his name or Bregolien's, Legolas could not be certain –
And then, blessedly, someone pulled him away, into the shade of an oak, and lowered him to the ground.
Legolas looked up into Elrohir's worried face.
"Let me see," Elrohir said without preamble, already undoing Legolas' cloak.
"Is – Bregolien – is he –"
"Elladan will check. We will save him if he can be saved, little though he deserves it. But if he is dead, you need feel no guilt about it. You gave him his life; he chose to squander it in a desperate attempt at taking yours."
Legolas leaned back against the tree. Elladan had risen, shaking his head.
Bregolien was dead, then.
Legolas squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden burning in them. He could not give in to his emotions now. He knew Elrohir was right; had it not been for that last, desperate lunge, Bregolien would still be alive. He would be about to face the Elven-king's wrath, which would be a terrifying prospect for anyone, leave along someone who had attempted to take Legolas' life.
But he would be alive.
His eyes went to Rochendilwen. She was staring at Bregolien's still figure.
She met his gaze, and then, shaking herself free of her stupor with a visible effort, hurried over to him, positioning herself to block his view of Bregolien.
"How is he?" she asked anxiously.
"Fortunately," Elrohir said, his voice grim, "there is nothing fatal. It will be several days before he has a full range of motion in his arm, and he will need several stitches."
"Elbereth Gilthoniel," Rochendilwen breathed, sounding as though she was about to burst into tears. She turned away for a moment, closing her eyes, before she reached out. Her hand found Legolas' and squeezed it. "Never feel guilty," she said fiercely. "You would have spared him if you could, but Bregolien was past saving. Perhaps he always has been."
"Eredhion and I will bury him," Voronwë said, appearing over Rochendilwen's shoulder. "Elrohir, how soon can we move? Sauron may have been destroyed, but I will not be easy until we have left this accursed place."
"I would rather not move Legolas for a few hours, but you are right. The evil of the Enemy still marks this land. Elladan and I can make him comfortable enough to ride, though one of us will have to stay close to him."
What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!